


why don't we start a fire

by BerryliciousCheerio



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Modern AU, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3566192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerryliciousCheerio/pseuds/BerryliciousCheerio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I stole your cab," Clarke gasps. "I totally just stole your cab."</p><p>(or: clarke and lexa meet under cute circumstances)</p>
            </blockquote>





	why don't we start a fire

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: Please may you write number one: [Someone] gets into a cab only to find [someone] else already inside AU with Clarke and Lexa?
> 
> disclaimed

 

 

It’s literally pouring. Just—

 _so_ much rain.  

Clarke is drenched, head to toe, sweater clinging to her body, and she’s like ninety percent sure that her bag is filled with water, and her phone is probably ruined so like  _fuck_  all of this, you know? She was at work for, like, twenty hours, and honestly, she’s nearly dead on her feet.  She’s surprised she hasn’t just collapsed.  

So—

it’s raining, and Clarke is cold and tired and angry and all kinds of stressed, and three cabs pass her without even slowing, so when one comes to a halt in front of her, she scrambles for it.  

“Oh my god,” she groans, slamming the door behind her and dragging her sopping wet belongings into her lap.  

“Uh—.”  

Oh god. There’s another person.  Clarke glances out of the corner of her eyes and—

yep. That is another person.  Another, equally damp person.  

“I stole your cab,” Clarke gasps.  “I totally just stole your cab.”  

The girl sitting next to her looks equally shocked, the water having made her eyeliner run, so that her makeup nearly looks like war paint, but when she speaks, her voice is soft, kind.  “To be fair—I believe we got in at the same time.”  

The cabbie clears his throat, and Clarke feels suddenly very terrible. Cold and tired and angry and stressed and terrible.  Oh god.

“Just a moment,” the girl says, in clipped, proper English that sounds very foreign to Clarke, especially after hours of regionally accented cursing in the ER.  “What side of town do you live on?” 

Oh god.  

She’s so nice.  

What the fuck. 

“East.  Uh—northeast.”  Maybe she shouldn't be telling a stranger where she lives?  Well, uh—it’s not, like, her  _full_  address.  

The girl smiles.  “Me too.” She turns back to the driver. “Corner of third and Mulberry, please.” 

Okay, uh.  

Kind of odd coincidence, because that is the same street corner that Clarke always asks to be dropped off at, because she’s a single female living alone and telling her full address to strangers makes her nervous. 

 The driver pulls away from the curb and turns the radio up.  Clarke wrings her hair out onto the floor as discreetly as she can, and the girl next to her smirks and does the same.  “I’m Lexa,” she whispers, smirk growing into a beautiful smile, and Clarke might need to take a run through the rain to cool off, because Lexa is very, very pretty and the way she’s looking at Clarke right now is doing some very, very interesting things to her temperature.  

“I’m Clarke,” she whispers back, and god, she sounds attractive, right?  Sometimes her voice sounds like silk (or so she’s been told) and other times it cracks like a prepubescent boy, and she’s really hoping it’s the former right now.  

 _Deep breaths, Griffin._   

“You don’t—uh—.”  She glances at the cabbie and lowers her voice a little again. “You don’t happen to live at Tondc, do you?”  

Lexa tenses for a minute, narrowing her eyes infinitesimally, and yeah, that maybe sounded a tiny bit stalkerish, so Clarke tries not to choke on the foot in her mouth and explains.  “The, uh, street corner you said?  That’s the one I usually give too, and Tondc is the only apartment complex within a five minute walk,  _especially_ in this weather and—.” 

 When Lexa’s muscles relax, Clarke trails off, mainly because she sounds like an idiot, but also a little because Lexa’s starting to smirk again and she sort of just wants to soak that in, okay? 

 “I just moved here,” Lexa tells her, rifling through her own bag and coming out with a compact and makeup remover wipes.  “I used to live a couple of cities over, in Polis, but my job is here, so—.”  She shrugs, the movement languid and elegant and Clarke thinks she might be staring.  

Clarke also thinks that she makes a noise that’s somewhere between a groan and a strangled sigh.  

 _Wow, Clarke, just—so eloquent.  Congrats, Griffin, you made it.  Stammering in front of a pretty girl._   

There’s a small part of her that kind of want to hide her face.  But that would mean she’d have to look away from Lexa, and honestly, she’s pretty convinced that she finally knows what love at first sight means.  

Oh god.  She’s probably feverish.  The cold is making her think weird things.  

They sit in silence as Lexa wipes away her ruined eyeliner, and, with a clean face, she looks slightly less like a war ready commander and more like someone that would really like flowers.  Would she like flowers?  Why is Clarke seriously thinking about this?  

 _Oh my god_.  

“What’s wrong?”  

“Shit, did I—?”  Clarke rubs her face violently.  “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”  Lexa nods gently, carefully.  “I—uh—.” Clarke takes a breath.  “Do you want to get coffee?  I can show you around the neighborhood.”  

Lexa’s concern melts away, and Clarke is once again blinded with her smile.  The cab pulls up at the corner.  

“I’d love to.”

 

 

**...**

 

 

(so, uh—

clarke learns that maybe there are some advantages in giving your information to complete strangers. when lexa shyly takes her hand over coffee the next day—

um. 

yeah. god bless cabs and rainy nights)


End file.
